Icy Decision
by Craig W. Dressler
Summary: Doing an environmental study on the ice seemed like a real adventure until the ice began to break up and things really turned dangerous.


**ICY DECISION**

Our shelter withstood the winds quite well keeping the research team snug and warm what with the propane heaters blasting hot air. Situated a few hundred yards from open water and the narwhals we were studying the shelter would normally be safe for at least another month. However, the cracking sound of the splitting ice signaled this was no normal year. The ice was breaking apart, and the stormy weather made immediate evacuation impossible. Fear was readily apparent on the faces of Bill and Steve, my two colleagues.

Becoming a marine biologist had been my dream almost as far back as I could remember. Animals and nature programs had always fascinated me, but now it looked like it might be my undoing. Yesterday, we lost our small research boat when the ice it was on unexpectedly broke free and floated away. Unless we could devise a makeshift boat or the storm broke, we might not survive.

The cracking noise continued to sound beneath and around us. Periodically, one of us would head outside to check on the cracks and the opening leads in the ice. So far the ice under our shelter appeared safe, but by now the water had separated us from the mainland. We were not equipped to travel overland hundreds of miles to the nearest Eskimo village, so we had decided to keep to our shelter. Now, though, that looked as if had been a mistake.

The storm continued unabated and suddenly the shelter listed to one side. Rushing outside we saw that the ice floe we were on had completely broken away from the surrounding ice. It was only about fifty meters wide and seventy-five meters long, and the prevailing winds were pushing us away from the mainland.

With this sudden change we gathered back inside to hold a quick council.

Steve initiated the conversation, "If anyone has an in with man upstairs, you better make a call right now."

Ever the practical one, Bill responded with displeasure, "Don't waste our time with empty chatter. We need a plan and right now."

Reluctantly, I put forth the only idea that had come to mind. "The whale holder for the immature narwhals we take tissue samples from and tag might be able to hold us all once it's turned upside down."

"It will swamp with the first large wave," Bill replied.

"No, wait a minute," Steve answered. "It just might work. If we can anchor our plastic 'boat' to the side of the an ice floe out of the wind, we might just pull it off."

Bill's disgusted grunt of assent proceeded his words, "Seeing as there is no other option we'd better get at it."

It only took a few minutes to rearrange our shelter and pull our makeshift boat in out of the storm. Rope, drinking water, flashlights, tarps, a jury-rigged paddle and anchor, bailing cans and a few sealed foodstuffs were all we could fit inside once we had crawled into it. Longingly, we looked at the propane heaters still blasting away, but there was no way we could bring them along. As it was we were not sure the 'boat' would float now.

It did not take long to find out. A few hours later our ice floe began to crack inside the shelter. We positioned our boat right over the lead with the hope that it would plop into the water as the ice floe split farther apart. When it happened, we were caught off guard and got a little wet. Nevertheless, we were relieved to find out the boat floated. The shelter almost knocked Steve into the water as it pulled apart and collapsed. Thankfully, Bill saw the danger and grabbed him time.

At first the water between the small ice floes around us remained relatively calm because there was very little water between them, but as the open water expanded the wave size increased. Realizing the danger of being swamped Steve paddled us towards a somewhat larger ice floe. When we were on the leeward side, Bill used our rope and anchor and swung it out on the ice to secure us. Only with constant vigilance, though, would we keep from pulling free.

The sky darkened as dusk set in, and with Bill and Steve seeming to have our somewhat precarious situation under control I retreated into myself. With a rocking boat and the fear of being swamped, sleep was out of the question. My thoughts went back to Steve's words about the "man upstairs". I had generally ignored the idea of God figuring if I left him alone he would leave me alone. However, fear of death had knocked me for a loop. Ignoring death now, when it was a very real possibility, seemed to be the height of stupidity. I had had one Christian friend who tried to point me to the Jesus Christ of the Bible and to him as Savior and Lord. For me, though, it was always later. _Don't interrupt my life _I had thought at the time. Maybe later happened to be now. I regretted waiting but bowed my head in prayer hoping beyond hope there was substance in my friend's beliefs. Reaching in my mind towards heaven I stated my plea:

"God, if you are real, if you are there, please hear my cry. I ask you to forgive me of sins because of what Jesus did on the cross and come into my life."

At that moment peace flooded my soul and somehow I knew we would be okay. Almost as an afterthought I prayed, "And by the way, could you please rescue us as well?"

The dark night dragged on, but now there seemed to be a supernatural presence at my side providing comfort. The short hours of the northern spring darkness were still tough to face, but they passed, nevertheless.

About an hour after sunrise the storm broke, and a few hours later a Coast Guard helicopter found us.

Being airlifted out of the boat brought tremendous relief, but the peace that surpasses all understanding was greater because it has never left me. I have tried to maintain the commitment I made in that boat and not fail the one who has never failed me.


End file.
